


Retail Therapy

by levele3



Series: Strange Magic Week 2018 [1]
Category: Strange Magic (2015)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Human, Angst with a Happy Ending, Car Accidents, F/M, Gen, Human AU, References to Depression, Shopping, Trauma, agnst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-14
Updated: 2018-08-14
Packaged: 2019-06-27 03:19:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,848
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15676971
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/levele3/pseuds/levele3
Summary: Strange Magic Week- Day 1: To Market, To MarketBog doesn't want to be alone with his thoughts.Marianne is bored at work.“Hello sir, is there anything I can give you a hand with today?” Marianne asked.





	Retail Therapy

**Author's Note:**

> This is an addition to a shorter piece I wrote before. It's a little more agnsty than I usually write but thought it might be a unique twist to today's theme.

Strange Magic Week- Day 1: To Market, To Market

 

It had been two long years since Bog King had set foot outside the house he shared with his mother for anything other than a doctor’s appointment. Before leaving on her girls-weekend away he had assured his mother he had everything he needed to survive the weekend, she would only be gone for two nights, three days, he could manage.  

That was what he told his mother anyway.

She was hardly gone an hour when the itch set in.  

Their family home which once brought him comfort now felt like a prison. Not that he wanted to be _out there_ he thought, glancing at the heavily curtained window. There were people _out there_ after all. People who would gawk, and point, and laugh, or worse give him the agonizing looks of pity.  

Bog rubbed unconsciously at the stump of his left arm, it ended just where his elbow should be. His right palm was sticky with sweat and a nervous energy ran through him. 

The house, which had often seemed too loud as it burst at the seams with relatives laughing and chatting over one another, was suddenly far too quiet. Bog had looked forward to his mother going away. Most days she wouldn’t even go to the shops for more than an hour, leaving him hardly any time to himself. Bog realised now that was for the best. To be left alone, alone with his own dark thoughts was not a good thing to be.

 _You should not have survived the accident_ , The Voice whispered in his ear. It was a voice Bog knew well.

 _Waste of space,_ hideous _waste of space_ , The Voice spat.

Bog shuddered violently as he darted forward to turn on the TV, hitting the volume button again and again until it had reached its maximum level.  

 _Useless_ , The Voice hissed.

That time Bog wasn’t sure if The Voice was referring to him, or the futile effort the TV had been. 

A sudden need overcame him so completely and it was so foreign Bog almost didn’t register it, the _need_ to get out of the house.

Bog was out the door and down the street so fast he was more than halfway to the nearest bus stop when he realised he had forgot to grab his sweater. He shuddered again but he also knew if he went back to that empty house he’d not dare venture to leave again, so he kept walking.

His mother’s car sat in the driveway, but Bog hadn’t driven since the night of the accident, doubted he ever would again. Without his oversized navy hoodie Bog had nothing with which to cover the stump of his arm, and felt more exposed than usual. 

Bog got on the first bus that pulled up to the stop, headless of where it went; he just needed to be around people. Some place loud and nosy would be good, so long as he was not left to his own thoughts. Bog hated people usually but today they served a purpose. Bog watched through the bus window as the city passed by, apartment buildings, movie theatres, restaurants, and shopping centers. Bog couldn’t name the last movie he saw in a theatre, he did know the last time he ate out. That had been the night of the accident. 

Bog blinked back a tear and turned his head from the window. He had sat on the left side of the bus, so as to hide his missing limb from public view. He had lost more than his arm that night, Bog had lost, he believed, the love of his life. Only of course she hadn’t been, _of course_ , because good things weren’t allowed to happen to Bog King. 

_Not good enough, never good enough._

Bog pulled the rope signaling he wanted to get off at the next stop. He had no idea where that was, but he didn’t care, he needed off the bus, needed off now!

The bus stopped at the edge of a parking lot attached to a lone department store.

Bog rushed off the bus so fast he hadn’t even noticed the few people who had been rude enough to stare.

Bog’s legs worked fine, they were quite long and he made good time crossing the sparse parking lot. It was a hot day and by the time Bog reached the doors of the store he was thankful for the relief of the AC.  

***

It was a slow day at work.  

Marianne Faye was bored as she walked the aisles of her department looking for something to do, anything.   

Anything to get her mind off her failed “ _perfect_ ” romance, but of course it hadn’t been perfect, if it had of been perfect the git wouldn’t have cheated in the first place.

The worst part was, at first Marianne had almost thought everything would be alright, it _could_ have been alright as long as she hadn’t caught him cheating in the first place things would have been fine!

Marianne had given herself a good headshake after that one. Roland was a bag of shit that had won her over with nice hair and a charming smile that was all.

Marianne exhaled a sigh as at last she walked past an aisle with a customer in it. She instantly brightened, straighten her posture as she approached, she forced herself to smile and put on her “sweet-voice”, the one she used for dealing with customers.

“Hello sir, is there anything I can give you a hand with today?” Marianne asked.

Internally she winced, maybe that wasn’t the most professionally phrased question she though.

***

Bog stiffened at the sales lady’s question, she had approached on his right there was no way she could have seen. Ever so slowly he turned away from the latest video games he hand been inspecting and watched as if in his own kind of personal hell the sales woman's face drop.

***

As the man slowly turned to face her Marianne’s, admittedly fake, but brightly beaming smile fell to a look of horror, the man only had _one_ hand! His left arm ended at the elbow. Marianne instantly felt her face flush and she tried to stammer out an apology.

“Oh my- I am so sor-” she was only about part way through when the man suddenly burst out laughing startling Marianne.

She watched him for a minute as he stood there laughing. It was a loud and maniacal, throw-your-head-back, villain-of-the-week, “I’ve just taken over the world” kind of laugh. His shoulders shook, and he clutched at his side with his one good hand. Marianne was beginning to worry, she wondered if she should call for help. His laughter was infectious and soon Marianne found herself giggling.

It might not be polite, but she couldn’t help it. She covered her face in shame even as the laughter continued to bubble up. She was startled when a large warm hand landed gently on her shoulder.

“Hey, Tough Girl, don’t cry” the man’s voice was deep and rich with a slight Scottish accent.

Marianne pulled her hands away from her face and looked up into the bluest-blue eyes she had ever seen. He was standing so close she could smell his cologne; it was something that reminded her of being in a forest. And his stubbled chin out-lined the makings of a goatee.

“I’m not. I wasn’t.” she shook her head in bewilderment, “I am so-”she tried to apologize for her folly again but he held up his hand stopping her.

“I haven’t laughed like that in years” he confessed, “not since the accident”  he indicated his stump.

His lips were quirked up in a crooked smile that showed just a hint of crooked teeth, and his eyes seemed to glow with mirth.

Suddenly he looked away from her sheepishly and rubbed at the stump of his arm as if it brought him pain, and maybe it did. Marianne thought she saw his high cheeks rise with colour. This baffled her; he had nothing to be embarrassed about she was the one who had slipped up. 

“I didn’t mean to frighten you. Let me make it up to you, what time is your lunch?” he asked, still not looking directly at her.

“You didn’t frighten me” she protested, truly he hadn’t. “You don’t have to do that.” He did look at her then, and it was her turn to blush. His wondering gaze was so intense. It was almost like he couldn’t believe she wasn’t afraid of him. 

“Please” he begged, “it’s the least Ah can do.”

“Alright” Marianne acquiesced, “my lunch is at twelve, I’ll meet you up by the front?”

“I’ll be waiting” he agreed. He half turned to go back to looking at items on the shelf.

“So, are you sure you don’t need a ha- any help?” Marianne asked, and damn it she was blushing again.

“Nah, Ah’m good” he assured her, “Ah’ve still got one” he said waving his digits at Marianne, a smile pulling at the corner of his lips.

“Ah’ll see you at noon, Marianne” he said.

Then he winked and Marianne’s heart did a weird little flutter.

As Marianne turned the corner she wondered how he knew her name when they hadn’t introduced themselves. She looked down only to realised she was wearing her name tag, duh! She could have smacked her forehead for being so clueless.  

***

Bog wasn’t sure what had come over him. What the hell was he thinking asking out a store employee?  

And she was cute too.

The first woman he’s talked to in years and she is so fucking cute!

 _Marianne_.

That was another thing, he chastised himself, you’re lucky she didn’t call the cops on you, reading her name off her name tag, real smooth, _smooth criminal_ maybe. Maybe she had called the cops. 

He could almost hear her sweet voice now, “ _yes, hello officer, there is a one-handed pervert in the store, please come collect him right away.”_

Bog suddenly felt very ill, and his one good hand was clammy once more.

Then he smiled.

Every two to five minutes since Marianne had left him Bog had been compelled to smile. He remembered how he had laughed, all the things she could have said, “can I give you a hand?”

“Yes please” Bog had thought, “do you have one in a men’s size large.”

And once that thought had crossed his mind the laughter had come.  

There had been a time when he thought he’d never laugh again, but the punk chick who worked in the electronics department at Wal-Mart had done the impossible.

That’s how Bog King came to be standing at the front of the store, just past the check-outs waiting for the girl named Marianne.  When he seen her walking up an aisle towards him he smiled, because she was smiling too. 

And a few years later, Bog was standing at the end of another aisle, waiting for Marianne to walk towards him again. 

-Fin-

**Author's Note:**

> Gag all you want but I'm A Sucker for Happy Endings!


End file.
